


By the Grace

by TrishaCollins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumledore is not a paragon of viture., Gen, Harry is complicated, I don't pretend to know, I gave Dudley a younger sister, James Lives, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Remus and Sirus make sure he eats, Some People Live, some people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: When Petuina Durlsey nee Evans dies in a car accident with her husband and sister in law, the only person who could be found to look after her children was the widower of her sister.James Potter Doesn't want the reminder of his wife's death in his house, but Remus makes a convincing argument. Some part of him - some battered and abused part of him - cannot say no to Lily's blood.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Dudley Dursley was feeling wretched, but he was trying to be strong for Rose, who didn't know any better. For Rose being put on a train to be delivered to an uncle they had never met was an adventure, like something out of a story.

She was only five, and in her mind mum and daddy would appear at any moment and get back their things from the 'creditors'.

The last few days had been taxing indeed. But their uncle had responded to the letter requesting he take them, and children's services had seemed rather satisfied with such a neat solution to the problem of a pair of utterly penniless orphans.

When he wasn't mulling their fates, Dudley had spared a few thoughts for his parents. For his mother, and his father, and his aunt.

Dead. Drunks, one of the cops had said. Dead and drunk and in debt.

Aunt Marge at least had 'assets' to be sold, from what Dudley had understood. Everything that was in their home except for the bare one suitcase each - and the copper haired doll clutched in Rose's arms - had been sold at auction to pay their debts.

He had seen the letter on the headmistress desk. The bare words their uncle had sent. 'I will foster Petunia's children in my home until other arrangements can be made for their future, however I will take no responsibility for the debts their parents may have incurred, and you may inform their solicitors as such."

It had been a frosty letter, lacking warmth. But then Dudley hadn't even known he had another aunt. His mother had a sister? Had had a sister, he supposed. She had died.

He laced his hands together, trying not to stare too hard out the window.

The city had vanished outside the windows, given way to rolling countryside. He had had a cousin, too, a boy his age who had died when his aunt had.

Would their uncle even want children? What would he think of them? They couldn't be more different, really. Rose looked like a doll, bright green eyes sat off by rich red hair. She had dimples, and mum had always dressed her like a little doll.

They had only brought a few of Rose' dresses. The skirts took up too much room. 

He on the other hand...

His gym teacher had called him an over washed dish towel, once. Pale hair, pale eyes, and skin too pale to look like anything much.

Dudley was seven, and not stupid. He would never stand out in a good way like Rose.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the train braking, rocking him forward slightly.

"D'you reckon we're here, Dudley?" Rose asked softly, petting her doll.

"Maybe." He allowed, trying not to chew his lip. It had bled earlier, and it was still sore.

The conductor came down the aisle to them, smiling a bit. "Well, Dursleys, this is your stop. Are you excited to see you uncle?"

Rose turned her nose up, and he pinched her when he leaned to grab their bags from the floor.

She squeaked, rubbing her arm and frowning at him furiously.

"We are sir, thank you." He said in her steed.

The conductor gave him a pat, and took Rose' bag.

They both stood blinking in the light of the doorway for a moment before a rather tired looking man approached them. "You would be the Dursleys, then?" He asked. His accent was rather posh, at odds with his appearance.

"Yes, sir. I'm Dudley, and this is Rose."

The man's gaze locked on Rose - everyone always did that, a marvel that two such plain looking people could produce such a pretty little girl. He braced himself for it, but the man only nodded. "Lupin is my name, Remus Lupin. I will be seeing to your day to day care and work on accessing you academically so that we can find a good school for you."

"Pleased to meet you sir." He mumbled, and Rose echoed him after a moment of glaring mulishly at Mr. Lupin.

There was a man sitting in the car, a shiny new sedan with leather seats he knew his father would have admired.

"This is Mister Black, he also resides in Potter Manor. Though I am afraid we do not get very many visitors. Lord Potter likes his privacy." Mr. Lupin explained. "Though if you are ever hungry, there is a call box and the cook will send what you ask for up." Mr. Lupin gave a smile too wry to be friendly. "Within reason of course."

Mr. Black was looking at them, sour faced.

Mr. Lupin took their bags and loaded them in the boot. "This is all you have? No need to wait for them to finish unloading?"

"No sir." He managed, speaking for them both. The orphanage had paid for the train tickets, and had refused to pay for any extra baggage.

Not that the solicitors had left them with much.

Rose clutched her doll close to her as Mr. Lupin opened the door, but scrambled into the car willingly enough.

He took a deep breath of his own and climbed inside.

Mr. Lupin joined mr. Black in the front,and a brief, hissed conversation was held, with one sharp gesture at Rose. He heard 'Lily' from Mr. Black, and something flashed briefly on Mr. Lupin's wrist.

It didn't seem like a good start.


	2. Chapter 2

Dudley's first impression of Potter manor was that it was too big. Impossibly large, like perhaps the queen should be living there, not his uncle. The amount of empty windows was daunting, and the great big doors in the front seemed to shimmer with great big lions standing guard.

They thankfully pulled around back, to a far more serviceable entrance with an impressive garden.

"It's a fairy tale castle!" Rose proclaimed with an awed smile. "Look Dudley, there are roses all over!"

Mr. Black chuckled, more a bark than a laugh as he pulled the car into the garage. 

Rose - blast - was out of the car and into the garden with her hand up to cup a bloom without so much as a 'please' or 'may I'.

He started to get out of the car to follow her, but found himself frozen in place as the scent of fresh turned soil and blooming roses hit his nose.

His mother had loved to garden, even if his da said it wasn't for boys to do. Sure, he might get away with digging holes to the occasional bean sprout from nursery school. But gardening had been his mother’s love. Maybe her only love, side from the two of them. Lilies, Petunias and pampered rose bushes. It was the only time she looked really alive.

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and tried to force them down. He didn't want to think of his da as a bad father. He didn't want to think of his mother as unhappy. He had been trying not to think of them at all.

He mopped at his face with his sleeve, and realized that Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin had stopped too, and were watching Rose.

"This is a mistake." Mr. Black said quietly, in the sort of tone that grownups used when children were not meant to hear.

"They are Lily's family." Mr. Lupin replied, as though that answered everything. "Rose."

His sister stepped away from the roses, arms around her doll.

Mr. Lupin smiled at her and offered his hand. "Shall we see your rooms?"

Rose grinned, and skipped to him to take his hand, already chattering away about fairy tales.

He swallowed against yhe lump in his throat and found Mr. Black watching him. One eye was covered in a spider web of scars, the eye gone milky and sightless. "You'll be ok." He said gruffly, popping the hatch and staring at the bags.

For a moment - maybe caught in Rose's fairy stories - he almost expected the bags to hop out of the boot and male their own way inside. From the look on Mr. Black's face, maybe he wanted them to do that too.

He picked them up instead, one in each hand. "Get the boot, will you?"

He hopped up on the rear of the trunk without thinking, giving it a tug down.

"Is it my Uncle's?" He asked, feet on the gravel drive again.

Mr. Black looked thoughtful. "I suppose. He forgets he has it, I drive it mostly."

"Oh." How did you forget you had a car like this? He absently used his sleeve to rub off the marks his feet had left. "That's nice of him."

"Yeah." Mr. Black turned towards the door, leading him inside. 

He found himself chewing on his lip again, following in Mr. Black's footsteps and trying to mimic what he was doing so as not to make a mistake.

He had to make this work, for Rose at least...

Mr. Black glanced at him a few times to make sure he was following, the kitchen was quiet and empty. It smelled good, but not like home did. It was too big.

Maybe his mum would have liked it.

That made his chest tight, so he tried not to think it. "Will i meet my uncle?"

"Maybe not tonight. Depends." Mr. Black answered, leading him up the back stairs. "You two are on the second floor, east wing. If you need anything just let us know."

Depends on what?

But he didn't say that, he watched the pictures instead. They were exactly the sort of things Aunt Marge would complain about. But he thought they were neat. His uncle couldn't be as bad as Aunt Marge, not if he had awesome pictures like these.

He tried to insulate himself with that thought, to wrap it around and through him. 

“You’ll be the first kids here since James was a kid.” Mr. Black said, pushing open a door into a wide open room with wooden rocking horses and toy soldiers and other extraordinary things. But no bed. There was a door though, and when he risked peeking through there was another whole room there, with a huge bed hung with red and gold bed curtains. 

“What about Harry?” He asked, soft, reaching out to touch the nose of one of the horses. It looked almost real, the wood worn by imagination. It looked old too, like an antique or something out of a movie. 

Mr. Black was silent for a long moment, and then sniffed. “Harry never made it this far. We’ll leave it at that. Your sister’s rooms will be across the hall.” He gestured to a box on the wall. “If you want snacks or anything other than mealtimes, ask there. We…try, Remus and I, to at least make James – your Uncle – sit down for one meal a day. You’ll most probably join us.” 

He nodded, stomach sinking. He’d asked the wrong thing, Harry had died when he was just a baby. Too young for a room full of toys sized for his age. “Sorry-I. Mr. Black.”

The man looked distant for a moment, and then flashed him a smile. With the scars, it only really tugged at one side of his face, making him look lopsided and strange. “Don’t worry about it, squirt. Sometimes I wish we could think about him that easy. Never be ashamed of wondering about your family, ok?” 

He nodded slowly. “Ok.”

“Come on, let’s see what Rose is up to and drop off her things.”


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two weeks, and he still hadn’t met his uncle. He supposed a lord had a lot of work to do, even more than a manager or a partner. 

Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin were nice enough. He guessed. Mr. Lupin made them do sums, which might be the most normal thing that happened to him since…well, since new years. 

Since his mother had pressed a kiss to his forehead and reminded him that he could stay up late. 

He held those little bits of her close, tucked into his pocket for when he felt so alone. But. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black were nice enough, if distant. 

They all seemed sad. They all seemed like they were struggling with something. He couldn’t quite understand it.

But there were a lot of things that didn’t make sense in the Potter Manor. 

Like, he was sure nobody else lived there – except for him, and Rose, and Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, and his uncle James – but he never saw a car come or go, except for when Mr. Black went to town. But the cook was never in the kitchen, either. 

March roses were twinning up the sides of the pickets, in a way that made him feel like maybe they were too early. But they were pretty and it was easy to forget. 

He’d asked after the Gardener, and Mr. Black had glanced at Mr. Lupin and steered the conversation in other directions.

Rose insisted they were elves, straightening their things, cooking, doing the washing up and the gardening. 

He thought elves sounded suspiciously like freakish business, in a way that rocking horses and rose bushes didn’t. His father wouldn’t like it, if Rose kept telling fairy stories.

But, well, his father wasn’t here. Couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be mad about Rose’s happy notions of elves and magical rose bushes and life moving on without him. 

Maybe it was ok for Rose to believe in magic and elves. 

“D’you reckon my uncle would mind if I had a garden?” He asked absently, watching out the window. 

“What sort of garden?” Mr. Lupin asked, writing up more sums. 

“Maybe vegetables? Or some flowers?” He asked quietly. 

“We can ask him.” Mr. Lupin agreed. “I don’t think he would mind. Lady Potter – James’ mother – had a small vegetable garden outside the kitchen.” 

He nodded, peering at Mr. Lupin over his sums. “D’you think I could ask him?”

Mr. Black glanced at Mr. Lupin again, from where he was distracting Rose with simpler sums than the ones Mr. Lupin was making him do. 

“I don’t think it would hurt to try.” Mr. Lupin smiled a bit. 

He guessed that maybe getting his uncle to sit down for a meal wasn’t going so well. “We could try breakfast tomorrow?”

“He might agree to that.” 

They left it at that, and he made himself work through the sums that Mr. Lupin had written down – even if he was sure they were much harder than the ones he had been doing with Mrs. Hickerson. 

*~*

That night, something in the air made him wake up – like right before something weird happened when Rose was upset. 

He slid out of his bed and crept down the hall, finding his way to the staircase. They mostly used the back one – when they wanted to go outside, it was easier, plus he had to go around the entire house if he wanted to go outside, the big doors were too heavy and locked besides. 

He really wasn’t sure what had made him wake up, but it felt. 

It felt like waking up to Rose’s wail an hour before the officers had come and snatched his entire future away. 

Only Rose wasn’t awake, he was. 

He crept to the edge of the grand staircase to look down into the main room. 

There was a fire in the fireplace, the big main one that was never lit, and a man pacing back and forth in front of it in his dressing robe. Mr. Lupin was on the couch, Mr. Black curled against the wall.

“He’s my son.” The words seemed to rip out of the man. “He’s my *son*, Dumbledore!” 

“James.” The fire sighed. 

“Don’t.” The man – his uncle – shook his fist at the fire. “Don’t. I want Harry, I want him back here. Not just letters and the occasional picture, Dumbledore. Give me my son, or I’ll-“ He trailed off, shoulders slumping.

Adults shouldn’t look like that. 

That was what struck him most strongly. Adults should be in control, should be in charge. Always. Uncle James shouldn’t look like that. 

Whatever was happening, he should. 

A man stepped out of the fire. 

He was probably dreaming, back in his bed, back in his bed and not even awake. Not crouched on the stairs with his head pressed between the rails. 

“I don’t care what you say, Albus.” Uncle James snarled, holding a stick out. 

“The boy is dead already, James. Whatever spark that remains is a prison for a fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul. If we allow it to be eroded.”

“By what? A few quidditch games? A few hugs? Is that how easily evil can be undone.” Uncle James was pacing, voice raising an octave. 

“I should have never let you know that his body yet lived, James.” The man’s voice was full of sadness. “They best you can do is to move on.” 

He felt – something queer prickle over him, like a rush of ice down his back.

“Lily’s niece and nephew are here.” Those strange eyes fixed on him, and the queer sort of wrongness spread further, faster, until he wanted nothing more than to run back to his bed, slam shut his eyes, and pretend he’d never dreamed this.

“Dudley!” Mr. Black’s voice was a roar, and there was a weird – pop, like he had fallen, and his head slammed roughly against something that wasn’t very soft at all. 

And he knew nothing more. 

~*~

Someone was stroking his hair, and he muzzily thought it must be his mother. She would still do that sometimes, when he was sick, and hum the songs she used to sing him. Over the past few years as Rose got bigger, it had seemed like something was fading within her. A new sadness had made its home inside her skin.

He didn’t like it, so he kept his eyes closed, not wanting her to move away. 

A deep, male voice sighed above him and he startled, the brief bang of loneliness welling up in his chest. It wasn’t his mother, it could never again be his mother. Not ever. 

Only now, he thought maybe the sadness had come to stay with him and made its home inside him. Like a mouse nesting in the attic. 

It stuck in his throat, that sadness, even before the ache made itself known.

He opened his eyes, and stared up into a pair of sharp blue eyes he had never seen before. The man looked tired – tireder, maybe, than Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black, with bits of grey all through his dark hair. He had a scar over his lips, down his chin. Thin, but it must have hurt when he got it. 

“Are you…” He hesitated. “Are you my Uncle James?”

The man gave him a smile that was more of a grimace, though it wasn’t a mean one like Aunt Marge’s sometimes were. “I am. You’re Dudley.”

He nodded, though he felt sort of silly to do so. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Uncle James looked away, though his hand still rested on his hair, in a heavy sort of way that wasn’t uncomfortable. “I know. Sometimes it is hard to be met.”

He considered that. “It’s like your heart knows it can’t see who it wants, and it doesn’t want to know anyone else.”

Uncle James gave him a searching look. “Remus said you were smart.”

“Mr. Lupin makes me do sums, tons of them. I don’t know where he finds them all, there aren’t any books.” He complained softly. 

Uncle James laughed, shoulders trembling as though it hurt him. “I’ll tell him to lay off the sums for a bit. Do you like the manor?” 

He nodded quickly. “My room is very nice, thank you, and Rose likes all the dolls you found her, and-“

Uncle James held up his hand. “It’s alright. I’m not going to take anything away. Is there anything you’d like?”

He considered, plucking at the blanket. “A garden, maybe, to grow some flowers? And some peas, mum always had peas in the garden. It’s time to plant them soon.”

Uncle James gave him another searching look, before nodding. “I’ll have Ti-Remus show you where the kitchen garden was.” 

He let out a breath, relaxing under the hand. “Thank you.”

“You took quite the tumble earlier.” Uncle James touched a sore spot on his head. “I almost rang the medic. You’ll have a lump there. What happened?”

His entire face flushed. “I had a bad dream.”

“Care to tell me about it?”

He tried to make it all make sense in his head. “I don’t know what was so bad about it, only a man came out of the fireplace, and I didn’t like him much.”

“I can’t imagine anyone would.” Uncle James chuckled, and tousled his hair. Fondly, like Piers dad sometimes did, fingers combing just so through his fringe. 

It made him feel compulsive, and like – maybe Uncle James understood the sadness inside him. He sat up, and clumsily threw his arms around his Uncle. 

Vernon had never been physically affectionate with his children. Sure, the blows to the shoulder to demonstrate his approval had come often enough. But hugs were not a thing a Dursley did, apparently.

Potter’s must, because after the first rush of air from Uncle James’ chest, his arms settled around him and held him close, one hand tucking itself against the back of his head, breath warm on the top of it. 

And he felt safe, really, truly, perfectly safe.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Mr. Black did when he saw him in the morning was grab his head to check the lump. "Jeeze, kid. Don't scare me like that."

He ducked his head. "I heard you yell."

Mr. Black scratched his nose. "Heard you scream, and then you hit the ground. Thought something got in."

"Just a nightmare." He stated shyly. 

"No more pizza before bed, huh?" Mr. Black gave his shoulder a squeeze, guiding him to the table.

"Yeah. I guess." Uncle James was at the breakfast table this morning, and Rose was chattering at him. Uncle James looked pained, but he was nodding as she talked, fidgeting with his coffee.

"G'morning uncle James." He called, as Mr. Black guided him into his chair.

"Good morning, Dudley. How is your head?"

"Mr. Lupin gave me a tablet to help." He rubbed his head. "He said i have a hard head."

Uncle James snorted. "Not hard enough, I am afraid."

He grinned, taking bacon off the tray in front of him and popping it in his mouth.

For the first time, this feels like home.

~*~

They have visitors today. That is all he knows. That someone will be visiting and Mr. Black is excited about it.

The car that pulled up was bright yellow, the driver looked like a skinnier version of Mr. Black, with finer features, and he let out the woman before moving for the back of the car.

Uncle James meets her with a hug, and she coos over Rose.

Two boys clamber out of the back of the car and the man reappears with a bundle in his arms.

The boys are maybe his age, and he feels suddenly shy and like he wants to hide behind Mr. Lupin.

What if they don't like him?

"Draco, Neville." Uncle James moves forward to rescue both boys from Mr. Black. - a part of him is a little jealous of the easy way they relax into Mr. Black's roughhousing, how freely they are hugged and made much of. He is 

"Lord Potter." The fair haired one says quietly, face serious.

That makes Uncle James laugh, and sketch a dramatic bow. "Lord Malfoy."

The boy's serious face cracked, and the other boy giggled. "Hi Uncle James."

Uncle James ruffled his hair. "What do you think of your new siblings?"

"Cousins." Draco corrects brightly. "I am only a ward of the noble house of Black."

"Of course, of course. So they'll only mean Neville when they call out, hm?" Uncle James winked.

That made Draco frown. "Well. Uh....no. I like they ok. Krecher says we mustn't touch them without washing first. Hypoxis is pretty, I think Castor looks like a slug."

Mr. Black snorted, taking part of the blanket away from his twin.

Must be babies.

He remembered holding Rose when she was a baby. He had a picture in his room.

"My son does not look like a slug, Draco." The man next to Mr. Black sighed and rolled his eyes. "James, the children."

Uncle James looked briefly confused, and then turned bright red, coughing into his hand. "Right. This is my niece and nephew Dudley and Rose." Uncle James came back to them, sweeping Rose off her feet and putting a hand on his head. "Dudley, these two rascals are my nephews, Draco and Neville, Alice is Neville's mother - and the twins - and the man we never thought would marry is Regulus, Sirius' brother, Draco's guardian, Neville's step-father and lord of the most noble and ancient house of Black."

Regulus was already rolling his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you, Rose, Dudley." He inclined his head, probably how a lord should, and he awkwardly bowed, not sure what he was meant to do.

Draco was studying him with open curiosity, though he didn't look mean about it.

He wondered what had happened to his parents, and to Neville's father.

But if he asked they would probably ask about his, and he didn't want to.

"Why Don't you show Draco and Neville around the garden?" Uncle James suggested, in that way adults had of telling kids to get lost and be friends.

Draco opened his mouth, probably to say that he knew his way around the garden just fine, thank you, but Neville shifted on his fert, and Draco shut his mouth, scowling furiously like he also understood the secret adult language.

Mr. Black would be no help, he was cooing to the baby, and Mr. Lupin was talking to Ms. Alice, also no help.

He surrendered himself to his fate and shrugged at Draco, who rolled his eyes in return as though to say "what can you do?"

At least it appeared that Rose and the babies would go inside with the adults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is being written on my phone


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t really so bad, having Draco and Neville as temporary playmates. They did know their way around the grounds a lot better than he did, and the names for things he didn’t know – like the great big open field they said was a Quidditch pitch, or the hedge maze where there were stag statues that seemed to about to leap away – you had to go where the antlers were pointed to get out. Sometimes they seemed to change.

But it was nice, having two other boys to knock around the grounds with. It was clear they were close – they weren’t brothers Draco stressed, but they got along better than he and Rose did sometimes.

Draco waited until after lunch and the adults had all closeted themselves away to talk with solemn faces over mugs of coffee – and maybe brandy, though that might just have been his da and aunt – and Draco had grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out the back door. 

“So. Did you meet him?”

He blinked, foundering for his footing. “Meet…who?”

Draco looked impatient. “Dumbledore, Alice said that he was a few nights ago and he knocked you around.” 

“Mum didn’t say that.” Neville was rolling his eyes, though he looked equally eager to hear. “She said he’d fell.”

Draco made a gesture that implied they were the same thing.

“You’re the first visitors we’ve had since we got here.” He protested. The man in the fire place had just been a dream. “Unless you mean Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin?”

“Naw, Sirius and Remus live here.” Draco shook his head. “He’s a big, crazy looking old man with a beard like spider webs, and he steals children away in the night.”

Neville huffed. 

Draco pinned him with a look. “How’d you reckon I got here, eh? I didn’t start with my Cousin, that was only cuz of Dumbledore’s great reorganization, and my father got sent to jail and the only way my mother didn’t was cause she married that Prewett and gave custody of me to someone else, else all the lands would have been seized, and Cousin Regulus was trustworthy.”

“You don’t remember that.” Neville sighed, shaking his head. “You were only two.”

“Two’s old enough. I know it.” Draco sniffed. “Only, I’ve only met him that once. When I was two, and he came and took me. You’re older. So?”

Both boys pinned him with serious look.

“I…who’s he?” 

Draco huffed, shaking his head. “He’s a great wizard who got this idea of how things should work after You-Know-Who got killed by Lily Potter. So he decided, so there wouldn’t be no more Dark Lords, he’d make sure all his followers or those that thought maybe he had the right idea would be locked up, and their kids would go to other families to avoid getting tainted, with their estates held in trust till they’re adults.” He jerked a thumb at Neville. “His parents were on Dumbledore’s side, at first, till my aunt Bella lost her marbles and went after them. After that, everything got really serious for a bit, and he took Harry away.”

Neville shook his head, but didn’t argue this time. 

“I guess maybe I did see him.” He said, after long moments of silence and the boys staring at him. “Only, I thought it was a dream. He came out of the fireplace.” Wizards? His aunt had killed someone? Dark Lords? His mind was swimming with all the new information. “How come he took you from your mum?”

“After the war, a lot of the old bloodlines were near dying out. Black wasn’t, on account of Uncle Regulus switching sides when it became apparent it wasn’t the winning side and Uncle Sirius never thinking he was worth a pint of piss in the first place. But there weren’t a lot of noble and ancient houses with daughters to throw around and get to the business of repopulating. So the Prewett brother got a wife, mum says he’s ok. I only met him at the wedding.” Draco shrugged. “I have three little sisters.” 

“My mum went to Regulus as soon as she was done with the official mourning period after dad died and told him to marry her. She was worried she might get other, less nice offers. I like him.” Neville toed the ground. “My da died when I was little, I only know him from pictures and stories. So…he’s like my real dad, really.”

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

“But everyone knows that Dumbledore only goes to Hogwarts and the Ministry, so he came here? Uncle James must really be wearing him down.” Draco looked satisfied. “Uncle James was on his side too, when the war was going on. Till Dumbledore took Harry away.”

The garden, which had felt like a warm safe place until then, suddenly felt cold.

Neville fidgeted with his sleeve, looking around. “We should go inside, and talk about something else.”

Draco looked at him for a moment, but nodded amiably. “Let’s check out your playroom.”


	6. Chapter 6

By the time dinner rolled around, he was done playing with Draco and Neville. Not because they were mean or anything – it was fun. He liked them. He thought maybe if he saw them again it would be easier.

But he was tired, so very tired, and uncomfortable in his own skin. It felt like being seen was making his skin prickle, all over, every bit of him.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want it anymore.

The adults had settled down with the babies and seemed to be happy to continue talking – at least Mr. Black was, rocking one of the babies in his arms with a content expression on his face. Uncle James had disappeared. 

Nobody was looking for him, really, not even Rose who had decided Alice was the best and snuggled up against her.

Rose was like that, sometimes. But he wondered where Uncle James had gone, and if maybe he was feeling the same way about having so many people around.

He chewed on his lip for a moment, watching the adults, and Draco and Neville. The not-brothers were on the floor playing with cards. 

He stood up slowly, Mr. Lupin looked up from his mug. “Dudley?”

“Gotta go.” He mimed the loo, and was rewarded with a small nod from Mr. Lupin.

Permission secured, he left the big main room and went on a search for Uncle James. 

Maybe he had the same buzzy, too many eyes feeling? Maybe they could talk about it? Or maybe seeing the babies was like seeing Alice – it hurt, and made him miss his mum more?

He found him outside, in the dark. Tucked into the corner of the porch, knees pulled to his chest and his chin on them. He looked like Rose when she was having a tantrum, but the glint of his glasses was missing. 

“Uncle James?”

Uncle James startled a bit, uncurling. “Dudley? Is everything ok?”

He considered that question, then shook his head, edging a bit closer to uncle James. 

He was rewarded with an arm settling around his shoulders, tugging him close. He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s loud – and I feel like everyone is looking at me.”   
“Ah. Yeah. It is crowded, huh?” Uncle James stroked his hair gently. “Sorry, Duds, should have warned you they were coming and kicked them out sooner.”

“It’s ok. Mr. Black is really happy.” He asserted. 

“You don’t have to call him that, you know. Remus and Sirius are as good as brothers to me, they can be your Uncles too.” Uncle James suggested gently. 

He thought about that, considering. He had – or had once had – Aunt Marge, and Aunt Lily. He had Uncle James, but Draco seemed to have an explosion of uncles and aunts and cousins that made no sense. “Ok.”

Uncle James sighed a bit, but didn’t stop hugging him, which meant he didn’t mind it.

He was trying to find the words, trying to figure out what to do to make it better. “Mrs. Alice is really nice.” He said, careful, trying not to say the wrong thing. He wanted Uncle James to like him, not to want to go away. “I like her. Neville says she’s a good mum. Only…” 

Uncle James tightened his arm around him. “You miss yours more when you see her. Merlin, Dudley, I’m so sorry. I’m stupid and didn’t think.”

He shook his head. “Is it…are you…” He chewed his lip savagely, trying to make the words come back. “Is it hard for you, cuz the babies?”

Uncle James went very still next to him, quiet.

He held his breath, waiting to be shoved away for being a bad kid.

“…yeah.” Uncle James said, softly, barely breathing the word.

The tension in his chest eased out, and he pressed closer to Uncle James’ side.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Uncle James murmured, giving him a squeeze.

He liked Uncle James’ squeezes, they made him feel safe, protected. Not like when Aunt Marge would grab him up and he mostly just felt squished. 

“I guess. It’s hard to be a pair.”

Uncle James chuckled softly. “Yeah, it is.”

He wanted Uncle James to be happy, wanted to be happy here. 

“I guess I ought to tell them to leave, huh?” Uncle James murmured. 

“They’re in there.” He told him.

“Right you are.” Uncle James stroked his hair, slouching a bit next to him. “The stars are pretty tonight.”

“Uh huh.” He agreed, peering up at them. 

It was enough, he no longer felt like he was too see. Just like he was seen enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Uncle James looked at the book on the table like he was about to go to war – or maybe he was looking at the man in the suit standing there. 

He checked Uncle James’ line of sight and decided that no, really, he was looking at the book. 

He paused in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, and tried to make sense of what was going on. 

The man was tall with his hair drawn back into a ponytail, he was wearing a suit with a long suit coat on. 

His father had called them hippy people, useless louts. But this man looked professional. 

“You’re sure?” Uncle James asked, soft, voice heavy with a lot of things.

“As sure as I can be with as tight as the security is. The book records the name of every magical child eligible to attend Hogwarts. Every child.” The man looked tired, hand coming to his forehead. “I’ve looked through it twice, Potter. It’s accurate. It shows their original names – and then the adopted names.”

“Shit.” Uncle James said.

He walked into the room, pressing against Sirius’ arm.

Sirius jumped a bit, but draped an arm around his shoulders. “Sorry, breakfast is running late.” 

“He’s using Azkaban too?” Lupin asked, turning pages slowly in the book. 

The man sighed. “As near as I can tell, he’s using everything. St. Mungos, Azkaban, straight kidnapping. He is increasing the population – deliberately. He is trying to make having a single child illegal.”

“And Fudge supports this?”

“Fudge does whatever Dumbledore tells him to do, he’s always done so. The stiffs on the council like it because it shows that he cares about the purebloods. – rejuvenating our society.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Remus said softly, closing the book. “May we keep this copy of the records, or must you return it?”

“The original cannot leave Hogwarts.” Mr. Severus shook his head. “Potter is still listed, at least. Wherever Dumbledore has him hidden, he is still eligible to attend under his own name.”

Uncle James nodded slowly, slumped in his chair. “How am I supposed to wait?”

“You aren’t. He expects you to do something. He is waiting for it.” Severus sighed, finally relaxing out of his tense posture. “It’s a trap. For you, for whatever remains of his followers. I am not sure.”

“Do you know who is watching him?” Sirius asked, pressing his hand to the back of his head. 

He leaned a bit closer, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. 

“It changes, I do potions lessons with him twice a week.” Severus shook his head at the look James gave him. “We’re watched. He is an eager student, always. He has Lily’s curiosity. But we are watched, and he is careful with his questions and keeps them limited to the topic he is allowed.” 

Uncle James slumped a bit. 

“I know you want to see him, Potter, but I cannot help.” Mr. Severus glanced at him, thoughtful. “But. I think if you let him think that you are….refocused.”

“I’m not using them.”

“Not as such.” Mr. Severus agreed. “But let him see what he would see.” 

Uncle James scowled. “Thank you. For stopping by, for helping.”

“I care about Lily’s boy.” Severus gave a small bow and walked out – towards the kitchen and the drive. 

“C’mere, Duds.” Uncle James held his arms open.

He left Sirius quickly, hugging Uncle James as he was bid. 

Uncle James held him tight for several moments, then sighed and pulled away, hand ruffling his hair. “Thanks, bud. We’re going shopping today.”

“For food?” They hadn’t done any shopping yet, but there always seemed to be food.

“No. Well, I guess we could get a snack. But you need clothes for your new school.” Uncle James grinned. “Remus feels like keeping you shut up in here is going to make us all crazy.”

“It’s in the village. Smaller classes, I think it will suit you and Rose.”

He nodded, considering that. He hadn’t been at school since winter break, before his parents- well. “It might be nice.” 

“I think you’ll like it.” Uncle James gave him a squeeze. “Eat your breakfast, I’ll get Rose up and we’ll go.”


End file.
